


bring him home

by tempt



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Fish Death, Canon-typical Temporary Character Death, Caretaking, Established Relationship, Eventual Resolution of Relationship Problems, Greece, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sex, Pining, Play Fighting, Post-Canon, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempt/pseuds/tempt
Summary: “Don’t you think it’s boring, the same thing all the time? It’s nice to change it up every now and then.”Changing it up, Thanatos thinks, looking back at Zagreus. Doesn’t that usually involve something like whips and chains? Not leaving them behind, again, after he had already promised to stay.(Persephone finds a way to allow Zagreus to survive on the surface, and Thanatos is tasked with guiding him home.)
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 280
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	bring him home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opinionhaver69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opinionhaver69/gifts).



> happy yuletide, hope you enjoy!

When Thanatos finds him, Zagreus is sitting on the cliff near the entrance to the Underworld. His feet dangle off the edge, kicking back and forth idly as he watches the sun set into Poseidon’s waters.

“You know, I haven’t seen this place since Mother returned home to the Underworld. Never really had the time to appreciate before, either, I was always in such a hurry to meet her.” Zagreus looks up at Thanatos and smiles, patting at the snowy ground beside him. “Come on, join me! The view is beautiful.”

Thanatos isn’t fond of the sensation of wet snow seeping into his clothing—he prefers to maintain a certain distance from certain inconveniences of the world above—but he sighs and settles reluctantly next to Zagreus.

“You must be used to sights like this, you spend so much time up here,” Zagreus continues, turning to him. The sun illuminates his face in profile, glinting off the red eye he’d inherited from his father. He looks almost unrecognizable cast in such brightness, without the shadows of his father’s—his own—domain about him.

“I rarely have time to enjoy sightseeing,” Thanatos says, finding himself breaking eye contact. “I only come up here for work. I don’t seem to find as much enjoyment in it as you do.” As expected, the ground is uncomfortable beneath him, sending a chill through his body that feels unlike those inflicted in the darkness of the Underworld.

Zagreus, ever curious, touches a hand to his arm, fingers roaming over the goosebumps forming on his skin. “Why have you come now, Than? Did you come to see how I was doing?” He grins, his hand curving around Thanatos’s arm in an easy grip.

“I came to see if you were ready to come home.”

“What, so soon?” Zagreus’s expression changes from flirtatious to disappointed, his face as easy to read as Cerberus with his huge drooping ears.

“You don’t have to,” Thanatos says, casting about for something else to say before landing on, “If you’re out too long, Mother Nyx might get worried.”

Zagreus laughs at that. “Oh come now, Than, Nyx never fretted after us like that even when we were kids.”

“Maybe she should have, with all the trouble you got yourself into,” Thanatos responds, though there’s not much weight to the words. It was true, even when they were younger they were given free rein to explore at their own leisure—or, at times, their own peril. He has fond enough memories of a younger Zagreus returning from his adventures with shards of smashed vases (the only enemies he could take down at the time, before all of Achilles’s training).

“Will _you_ be worried? If I’m away too long,” Zagreus asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Is he worried? He’s been subconsciously aware, since he was young, of the many souls of mortals and shades alike, a constant presence in his mind guiding him toward those that are approaching their time. He’s been tracking Zagreus’s presence, just as subconsciously, for nearly as long. He’d tracked his progress up and down the Underworld like a pendulum during his many attempts to escape—felt it burning brilliantly beside him when he chose to be by Thanatos’s side. He had been aware, this time, as Zagreus had made his way to the surface—had felt him there, the entire stretch of hours he had spent above ground, like a favorite keepsake set in the wrong place, constantly snagging at his attention.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, fool that he is.

“Aw, Than, you’re so sweet,” Zagreus says with a laugh, making Thanatos consider withdrawing his words. He shifts his grip down Thanatos’s arm, clasping hands with him over the oversized grip of his soul-reaping gauntlet. His eyes shift once more to the setting sun, already dipped low and red against the horizon. “Well, I suppose the day’s about done, so why don’t you take me back?”

* * *

Persephone and Hades had approached him with their plan after the fact. Despite his position in the House of Hades, and his recently developed closeness with Zagreus, he wasn’t privy to family matters unless they involved him—nor was he given much choice in such matters.

“You are to bring Zagreus back from his journeys to the world above,” came the initial command from Lord Hades, putting him immediately on his guard.

“What is the meaning of setting me upon him now, after all this time?” he asked. “You had my answer when first this matter began, and it will not change. I do not intend to fight Zagreus.”

“Oh, Thanatos, it’s not like that!” Persephone interjected. “And Hades, you really should be more careful with your words.”

She explained, then, that they had been working on a cure to the mysterious ailment that seemed to afflict Zagreus above the surface—the way he seemed incapable of surviving longer than a few moments outside the realm of the dead.

“A pomegranate fruit,” Thanatos echoed, a bit incredulous.

“Yes. Infused with my power and Hades’s. We believe it’ll be like taking a piece of the Underworld with him to the world above, allowing him a safe haven to reside within. Who knew that fib I told our Olympian relatives would hold some truth to it?”

That’s right, _Pomegranates hold power_. His mind was still processing the implications. But before he could allow his own feelings on the matter to rise to the surface, a more pressing concern presented itself:

“I won’t bring Zagreus back if he doesn’t want to come.” What did they intend, sending Zagreus away with his freedom, and Thanatos after him to take it away?

“We would never ask that of you, now would we, Hades?” Hades offered a reluctantly affirmative grumble, and Persephone continued, “With this newfound protection, Zagreus may find it harder to return to the Underworld. He can still die of natural causes, of course, and violent ones as well, but it may be more difficult than it had proven previously. In case he doesn’t easily find his way back to the River Styx, you may need to be there to guide him home.”

“Like a mortal soul,” Thanatos said. Zagreus was, after all, a quarter mortal—a fact Thanatos didn’t often forget, with the way he bled. _And now, with the way he’ll die._

“Yes,” Persephones agreed. “We have the greatest faith in you, given your performance to date. And,” she added, “given your relationship, I’m sure Zagreus would be happiest returning with you.”

* * *

The snow continues to fall as the two of them stand there, breathing heavily. The silence doesn’t seem to match the signs of struggle about them, the decimated foliage and burnt patches across the ground, courtesy of Lord Hades and his son both.

Thanatos finally breaks the silence. “Really, Zagreus? Your father may have given permission to aid you in your battles, but having me deal the final blow was unnecessary.”

Zagreus straightens from where he’d been panting with his hands against his knees, and looks to Thanatos with a bright smile. “Maybe it was necessary! I could be on death’s door, for all you know.”

Thanatos quirks an eyebrow at the saying. In spite of Zagreus’s complaint, he’s in relatively good health. There are splatters of blood here and there on the battlefield, but the wounds are quickly closing over, leaving only rosy skin to indicate the red blood flowing beneath. Is it the newfound protection from his parents? But no, it seems unlike Lord Hades to provide Zagreus such a handicap that could be used in battle now, when their abilities seem near even.

Now would be about the time, usually, that Thanatos would leave Zagreus on his own. His summons can be hard to predict, often interrupting Thanatos in the middle of work, without much time to spare for dialogue. (Thanatos suspects, sometimes, when he is called to the first levels of Tartarus, with just a couple Wretched Louts ambling about, that he’s wanted less for his assistance than his company. He could tell Zagreus off, insist that he won’t come when there’s no danger—but they’d both know it’s an empty threat.) For now—he had been in the middle of collecting souls, but the humans can be allowed to breathe a few more breaths.

“Is that so?” he asks as he makes his way over to Zagreus, who looks up at him with surprise untinged with wariness, even as Thanatos’s scythe flashes at him.

…A level of trust that is perhaps not unfounded, Thanatos thinks ruefully. The blunt side of his scythe strikes Zagreus in the chest, knocking him onto his back in the snow, spluttering but unharmed.

“What was that for?!” he protests, sitting up amidst a shower of snow.

“Merely testing your stamina. You seem hale enough to me,” Thanatos says, trying not to look too amused. Perhaps it’s too soon to gloat, though—Zagreus grabs hold of a corner of his robe and _tugs_ , bringing Thanatos crashing down atop him.

“Zagreus,” he growls out as he props himself up, shaking snow out of his hood, but Zagreus just laughs at him, unbothered by the way Thanatos’s movements send snow raining down on him yet again.

“What? Don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” he says. Then he brackets Thanatos’s face with his hands, his palms fiery despite the ambient temperature, and guides him down for a kiss.

It takes some time before Zagreus can coax a reciprocal response from him. Even knowing what he wants, even knowing that he can have it, Thanatos has always been slowed by caution. It takes him a moment before he closes his eyes and parts his lips, allowing himself to enjoy the soft warmth of Zagreus’s mouth. When Zagreus nudges a hand beneath his robes, palming directly at heated skin, Thanatos finds himself pulling back.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing, Than,” Zagreus says, flattening the palm of his hand flush against Thanatos and forcing a sharp intake of breath from him.

It’s a messy thing, the way they embrace in the snow, Zagreus’s hand wrapped around them both, stroking them together. Zagreus’s body is warm beneath him, a stark counter to the temperature around them. He looks good, small specks of snow melting in his pitch-black hair, his face rosy and his expression playful as he rolls them over, shocking another exclamation out of Thanatos as his back hits the cold snow. They interrupt themselves to tussle as if they were kids, and Thanatos can’t help but be caught up in Zagreus’s infectious good mood as he shoves snow down Zagreus’s chiton, then retraces the icy trail with his fingers, making Zagreus shiver for another reason.

“You know, I much prefer the comfort of your bedchambers, such as they are,” Thanatos says afterward, resting cross-legged on Zagreus’s abdomen, half-sitting half-levitating.

“I don’t.” Zagreus is sprawled in a spread-eagle on the snow, his still hurried-breathing causing Thanatos to rise and fall gently. He cocks his head up to look at Thanatos. “Don’t you think it’s boring, the same thing all the time? It’s nice to change it up every now and then.”

 _Changing it up_ , Thanatos thinks. Doesn’t that usually involve something like whips and chains?, he wonders, thinking of Meg. Not leaving them behind, again, after he had already promised to stay.

* * *

When Thanatos arrives, Zagreus is bent over a patch of soil, a few seedlings lined up in small pots beside him. He’s taken over his mother’s cottage, which seems to have held up well enough under his care. Then again, it had survived much longer than one would have expected without any supervision—the lasting powers of the Goddess Persephone, perhaps.

“Death approaches,” he announces himself.

“Thanatos!” Zagreus greets, pushing his hair out of his face, his hand leaving flecks of soil in its wake. Then, a bit suspiciously, “You don’t happen to collect plants, do you?”

Thanatos blinks, momentarily silenced by the seeming non-sequitur. “I haven’t made it a habit of collecting greenery, no. Are you offering me one…?”

“No, I mean—collecting their spirits, that is. Do you take them back to the Underworld when the time comes, as well? Because I’ve been working pretty hard to keep these alive, and if you’re here to tell me they’re not going to make it after all…”

Thanatos lets out a long sigh. “No, Zagreus, I’m not here to steal your plants.”

“Hey, I wasn’t accusing you of anything like that! It’s just, they’ve been having a tough time with the cold, and when you showed up, I really thought it meant that they were gone. You haven’t visited me for ages, you know, so I thought you had some reason for coming.” Zagreus finally stands up to (almost) eye-level, brushing his dirt-covered hands off against his clothing. “Anyway, you can’t have these ones, but I did have some that reminded me of you, if you wanted to take them back, brighten the house some…”

These ones, huh. Upon closer inspection, Thanatos recognizes the seedlings as pomegranate plants, their small leaves resembling the ones growing in the garden back home, but in miniature. They must have spawned from the pomegranate fruit Zagreus’s parents had given him, he realizes. Zagreus would need to plant more, if he planned to stay up here for longer.

“Maybe I came for you,” he interrupts Zagreus’s monologue, his tone neutral and his hand loosely gripping his scythe, testing the waters. He watches Zagreus for a reaction, curious if his eyes will reflect the same fear the mortals have when they see him approach them in such a way. When last they had parted, Zagreus had told him, a bit embarrassed, that he wanted to try staying up here for a while, and asked Thanatos not to bring him back so soon. It was strange—Thanatos was used to brief visits with Zagreus, but up here on the surface—the idea of anyone else telling him “Not now, try again later,” was laughable, and Sisyphus’s fate was testament enough to what happened to anyone who might dare try. He had left Zagreus, as he had been asked, trying not to feel as if he’d been spurned.

Zagreus seems unfazed by the threat—or perhaps unaware? “Thanatos,” he says, reaching for his hand, and Thanatos has to resist the urge to flinch away. He lets Zagreus intertwine their fingers, thinking about how rough with callouses they feel, the dirt still clinging to the ridges of his fingertips.

“Do I need a reason to visit you?” Thanatos asks, changing tact. “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he adds, a bit resentfully.

“I am happy to see you,” Zagreus insists with a squeeze of his fingers. “As for the other bit, _do_ you? Need a reason to visit me, that is. I certainly wondered, it took you so long to come back.”

Thanatos turns away, whether to avoid seeing the vulnerable expression on Zagreus’s face or to hide his own, he’s unsure. “You told me not to come.”

“I asked you not to bring me back. You were the one who decided that meant not seeing me.” As ever, Zagreus makes it hard for him to get away with an avoidant answer. He tilts Thanatos’s face back toward him with a hand against his cheek, making Thanatos acknowledge the expression in Zagreus’s eyes—longing, not fear.

Thanatos lets out another sigh. “In case you forgot, Zagreus, I _am_ Death.”

“I haven’t forgotten, Than. But even Death can take a break to spend some time with his lover every now and then, can’t he?” Zagreus’s hand on his face keeps him from looking away again, and Thanatos can only hope that Zagreus can’t feel the warmth in his cheeks—will allow him to keep at least that much hidden.

“Spoken like a deadbeat who hasn’t showed up to his job in ages,” he mutters.

“My Father granted me an extended unpaid leave,” Zagreus answers cheerily.

“Would that be nepotism? Or possibly unemployment?”

“So,” Zagreus asks, undeterred, “Stay with me awhile, yeah?”

Stay with Zagreus, in this cozy little cottage? They could play house like a pair of mortals. Part of him wonders why they can’t… but no. “I just came to see how you were doing, Zag. I still have work to do, unlike you,” he says, pulling away. “I’ll stop by another time.”

Zagreus may think that he can leave and still keep everything they’ve built up together, but part of Thanatos still wants him to choose.

* * *

“Stand back, I’ll take care of this.”

“Thanatos!” Zagreus looks up from his encounter with the fur-covered beast. He has his hands near its vulnerable underside, but the thing’s maw, filled with sharp teeth, is opened wide near Zagreus’s neck, its tongue out and dripping saliva… “Wait, no, don’t attack!”

Thanatos pauses with his scythe in midair, reassessing the situation. Upon closer inspection, the thing seems to be panting happily as Zagreus scratches its belly. It cocks a head at Thanatos curiously and peddles its foot in midair a couple times, as if urging Zagreus to continue his labors. “What… are you doing?”

“I made a friend!” Zagreus says, dutifully continuing to pet the hound’s belly as it wriggles on the ground in pleasure. The beast is certainly many times smaller than Cerberus, but it’s still practically Zagreus’s size, much larger than the domesticated dogs kept by mortals.

“…Is that a wolf?”

“Oh, is that what he’s called?” Zagreus asks. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Wolf?”

“No, that’s not its name, it’s… nevermind.” Thanatos returns his scythe to a neutral position. “I seem to recall Hypnos has many records of you being slain by mortal beasts, Zagreus, should you really be so familiar with them?”

Zagreus turns to look at him, still sprawled comfortably on the floor and idly petting the creature’s belly. “That did happen pretty often, before, but nowadays they seem less interested in attacking me. Might be that I still bear some of Artemis’s boons,” he says with a shrug.

That, and the Fates no longer drawing death of any form toward him, perhaps. Thanatos comes closer, now, and suddenly the beast is whining, rolling back to its legs, and cowering behind Zagreus.

“Aw, I think it’s scared of you,” Zagreus says with a laugh. “Don’t worry, he might look scary but he’s actually really nice. He won’t hurt you.”

“Are you speaking of me or the wolf?” Thanatos asks dryly, but keeps his distance from the cowering creature. “In case you’ve forgotten, Zagreus, I’m far from harmless to mortals such as your new friend here.”

“You bring them peaceful death, though,” Zagreus counters. “But I suppose the message has been slow to get out, about how death isn’t so bad as all that. It’s a shame, that more people can’t get to know your good side.”

That’s right, Zagreus had been interested in the mortals’ perceptions of the Underworld and death itself. Zagreus’s relentless desire to defend Thanatos brings him a certain warmth, but he’s long since become accustomed to his reputation among those that dwell above the ground, mortals and Olympians both. “The House of Hades recognizes me for my work,” he says, “and I’m content with the circle of people I associate with. I’m happy where I am. Would that you had the same loyalty.”

“Thanatos, that’s not fair—“

“Cerberus misses you, you know. As do I.” He doesn’t wait around to hear Zagreus’s response.

* * *

“Ugh, this heat.”

“Thanatos, you came,” Zagreus says, a cheery flush to his face.

Thanatos has found himself keeping an eye on him via Mort between his occasional visits, and he’s found that though Zagreus has made a home of his mother’s cottage, he has been wandering out ever farther from their realm on progressive expeditions. This time, Zagreus seems to have made it beyond the sphere of winter that surrounds the entrance to the Underworld, and the everlasting spring around Persephone’s cottage.

Demeter has long since returned the rest of the world to its regular seasonal cycle, and here in Greece, it’s hit the peak of summer. The sun shines down on them, heating the surrounding air and making it almost too bright to see after he’s been so suddenly called to the surface.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Thanatos says. “I don’t take your summons so lightly as you seem to.”

“Even if I said I just wanted to see you, is that so light a purpose?” Zagreus asks. “Besides, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

Thanatos’s mind briefly twists between gratification that Zagreus did have a purpose to calling him here, and disappointment that Zagreus did not, indeed, just want to see him, even though he knows that he’s the one who dissuades Zagreus from such meaningless summons. “Ask away, then,” he simply says.

“Well, I wanted to ask… I think I might be poisoned,” Zagreus says, and then he sways on his feet.

“Zagreus!” Thanatos appears beside him in an instant, steadying him with a hand on his waist. Upon closer inspection, what Thanatos had thought was a flush to his cheeks extends down over the exposed parts of his body, his skin looking redder than it does even in his moments of passion. When Thanatos shifts his fingers, one of them brushing against his bare waist, Zagreus flinches away with an, “Ow!”

“Everything’s been painful to the touch, and I feel a nausea not unlike Dionysus’s hangover effects. And this heat, it somehow feels worse than burning to death in Asphodel. Thought I might ask you if you knew what it might be, since you must be familiar with a variety of mortal ways of dying.”

“Zagreus, you’re not dying,” Thanatos says, a bit incredulous himself as he adds, “you have a sunburn.”

“A sunburn?”

“It’s a mortal ailment from extended exposure to the sun. I shouldn’t be surprised that you could be afflicted, I suppose. I've heard it can be quite painful, though it isn’t often fatal.” Because of that, he isn’t that familiar with it himself, though he’s picked up enough high-level information to provide some form of guidance. “Wait here a moment, I’ll get you something.”

Zagreus woozily voices his assent, and Thanatos ensures that he’s regained his balance before departing. He goes to the clearing above the Underworld’s entrance to bundle some snow in his cloak, then stops by his quarters to pick up another item before quickly returning to Zagreus’s side.

“Thanatos,” Zagreus briefly greets, before Thanatos overturns his cloakful of snow over his head. “Wha—is this revenge?” he protests, hissing at the sudden cold against his burnt skin.

“You need to cool down,” Thanatos explains, maneuvering him carefully until he’s sat down on the floor amongst the pile of snow, with his back to Thanatos, then takes a seat behind him.

Zagreus cranes over his shoulder to watch him, and perks up at what he sees—“Hey, is that one of the plants I gave you?—Wait, why are you tearing it apart?”

The other item he brought with him is a small, spiky plant that Zagreus had, indeed, foisted upon him during one of his visits to the cottage. Thanatos holds one of its leaves in his hand, carefully tipped so that the gelatinous material inside doesn’t spill out. “Your mother saw it back at the house and explained to me that it’s used to treat burns. It should help with the pain.” He removes Zagreus’s skull shoulder piece before carefully nudging the rest of his clothing down his shoulders. The red outline is starkly visible around where his skin had been exposed, and though Thanatos himself, thankfully, does not burn he finds himself sucking in a breath in sympathy.

When he squeezes a bit of the fluid onto his hand and presses it to reddened skin, Zagreus makes a small noise of pain at the contact. Thanatos tries to avoid pressing too hard as he slathers the material on Zagreus’s back generously.

“I suppose us Underworld beings aren’t meant to be in the sun so much,” Zagreus says lightly, his voice still a bit breathy from the pain.

“No, we’re not,” Thanatos agrees. He finishes spreading the material of one leaf over Zagreus’s back and tears off another, working his way down Zagreus’s arm now. It isn’t the time to linger, as he’s sure any prolonged contact would likely hurt (not that Zagreus is one to complain about pain easily). “I don’t know what you see in this place. It’s clear it wasn’t meant for us.”

Zagreus gives a shrug. “If we’re comparing how many ways a place has to kill me, I’d say the Underworld might be even less hospitable.”

Having finished tending to Zagreus’s back, Thanatos has no choice but to shift positions so that he’s in front of him, Zagreus looking up with brief surprise as they’re suddenly face to face. “Are you saying you like it better here, then?” Thanatos asks, using the excuse of applying aloe to his chest to avoid looking him in the eye.

Zagreus lets out a sigh. “I’m not leaving you, or the Underworld, Thanatos. Not this time. I just… want to see more of my mother’s realm.”

Thanatos takes a handful of aloe gel and smears it on Zagreus’s face, forcing him to press his eyes and mouth shut like a kitten being bathed by its parent. It gives him a moment of silence to reflect on Zagreus’s words. He’d never really been bothered by the passage of time before—like Zagreus had said, it’s a commodity they have in good supply. Lifetimes, full generations of mortals, seem to pass before he has time to think of it. So why, now, does he feel such impatience to have Zagreus back with them immediately?

Still, it had been Zagreus, too, who suggested they take their time, together.

Thanatos finishes with Zagreus’s face and runs his still-slick hands down Zagreus’s neck. When he presses a kiss to the top of Zagreus’s head, Zagreus peeks an eye open at him. “All good?” he asks.

“Good enough,” Thanatos says. The snow is mostly melted around Zagreus now, too, and his skin feels less hot to the touch. “Well then, I’ll be seeing you.”

* * *

“Ares.” The God of War stands before him, a small figure crumpled in his arms. Though Thanatos is hardly impressive in size himself among the gods, Zagreus is unique in his small stature. The wounds on his body have already healed over, but his clothing and hair are still matted with blood, and his eyes are empty beneath half-open lids as he dangles unnaturally still in Ares’s arms.

“Thanatos,” Ares returns in greeting, his voice cheery in a way that Thanatos does not share. He had sensed there might be something wrong with Zagreus and rushed over to investigate, but it appears he’s arrived too late.

“Did you come to take him back yourself?” Ares muses, looking down at the bundle in his arms. “This job isn’t one of yours, though, Thanatos, as you can plainly see.”

A heated impulse swells in his chest, a feeling that says, _Zagreus is mine_. Thanatos tamps down on the childish claim, his voice clipped and even as he says instead, “Let him go, God of War. Lord Hades himself charged me with the responsibility of returning Zagreus to the Underworld.”

“No need to be so cold, I’m merely returning him to your care. It’s so rare to see my kin partake in battle here on the surface where I can observe, so I couldn’t help my curiosity. Though I have to say his showing was rather disappointing.”

Thanatos accepts Zagreus’s body from him, trying to remain dispassionate as he asks, “What happened?”

“Some nearby mortals caught wind of Zagreus’s dwelling here, and took his appearance as a bad omen. A sign of evil that they had to vanquish or something, who knows what those mortals believe these days?”

“A band of mortals? They should be no match for Zagreus.”

“Ah, but my hell-born kin is so soft-hearted.” Ares sighs wistfully. “He could have caused much destruction, indeed.”

Thanatos considers paying the town a visit—he’s more than capable of being the evil omen they were so looking for. But Lord Hades would certainly have his neck for any rash behavior, and such fits of passion are more Zagreus’s style than his own. Instead, he just says to Ares, “Thank you for your… delivery. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I’ll be taking my leave,” Ares says with a small bow, ever polite even as he comes to deliver violence. “Do tell your mother I said hello though, would you?”

And then he’s gone, leaving Thanatos with his too-light burden. The feeling of Zagreus’s limp body in his arms is unfortunately a familiar one, though it’s been some time since he’s had to bring him back in such a state.

Somehow, the journey home doesn’t feel like the resolution he’d been expecting.

* * *

“I have returned.”

“Thanatos! —wait, hold on, talk after,” Zagreus says, already preparing an attack as Soul Catchers and Longspears begin to materialize around them.

They make quick work of their Elysian foes. Zagreus makes a point of one-upping him by drawing enemies out of his range of attack, looking too smug for someone who was dead in his arms not long prior. Thanatos’s own attacks come effortlessly enough that it’s easy to shift his attention instead to watching Zagreus dance about, a look of determination on his face as he targets each enemy. It seems inefficient, chasing after each foe one by one, but perhaps he is in no position to critique Zagreus’s approach when their final score lands at 12-4. He could make an excuse of his attentiveness, but it’s clear to see how Zagreus’s battle prowess has surpassed his own, more than making up for what he lacks in pure strength.

“Not bad,” he says after, handing over the usual centaur heart. Zagreus accepts it graciously then pauses to converse with Thanatos before he has to collect Artemis’s boon and proceed to the next chamber. Thanatos can only hope that Artemis can’t hear their conversation—though of all the Olympians, she’d probably be one of the less objectionable.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come, Thanatos. Hypnos told me you brought me back home, but then you left before I could say hi.” Zagreus’s expression reflects nothing but open curiosity, lacking any hint of accusation regarding the journey home. Well, he’s sure to remember his method of death, which as Ares had so deftly pointed out, was far from Thanatos’s domain.

“I figured I’d see you out here soon enough,” Thanatos says. “Did you think I would just stop helping you, after all this time?”

“No, I…” Zagreus fumbles with his words, then proceeds almost carefully, “I thought you might feel differently about it, now that I’m spending some more time away.”

“I can’t pretend I’m happy spending time with you on the surface, Zagreus,” Thanatos starts, then stops as he sees Zagreus’s expression fall, “—wait, that’s not what I meant. I can’t pretend I like it _better_ being with you on the surface. But if it’s important to you, I can tolerate spending a bit more time up there.”

Zagreus’s curiosity about the world above has caused him to linger on the surface in ways he had never been interested in when he had visited solely for work. It’s unlikely he’ll ever find himself entranced with it the way Zagreus seems to be, but there is a certain pleasure to seeing Zagreus’s enjoyment.

“Besides,” he adds, “I’m still welcome to visit whenever I like, aren’t I?”

“Of course,” Zagreus says.

“Then, good.”

* * *

“Hey Than?” Zagreus calls, his voice reaching across the distance between them as if it were spoken right beside him.

“Missed me already?” When he arrives, he finds Zagreus standing, once again, at the cliffs. It can’t have been long since he’s arrived to the surface, and Thanatos can’t help but wonder, despite his professed nonchalance, how long Zagreus will remain this time.

“Have you ever been to Poseidon’s realm?” Zagreus asks, leaning precariously over the cliff edge.

“What, are you tired of this realm already?” Thanatos asks with a wry smile. “Careful, or you might end up back home instead of in Poseidon’s waters. I don’t think a God that’s susceptible to sunburns would survive a leap like that.”

“I wasn’t—Than, come on, I’m not that reckless!”

“I’m sure your many acquaintances would beg to differ.” He tugs Zagreus back from the cliff, and Zagreus allows himself to be pulled back docilely enough. “Did you really call me here just to ask if it’d be safe for you to leap into Poseidon’s waters? Because I’m sure you could have figured that one out on your own.”

“No.” Zagreus shifts in Thanatos’s grip to face him with a small grin. “I just wanted to see you.”

The echo of his own words make a flush rise unbidden to his face. He looks away, and in avoiding Zagreus’s gaze catches a glimpse of the icy pond by the cliffs. Seeking a distraction, he suggests, “If you’re interested in Poseidon’s realm, perhaps you should practice staying afloat in smaller bodies of water first.”

“I have experience enough with the River Styx,” Zagreus responds, cocking his head.

“I would not call the way you float face down in the River Styx a good example of navigation through bodies of water.”

They end up in the stream by Persephone’s cottage, where the waters are warmer and pleasant to the touch. Thanatos attempts to remain by the shore and give vague directions as to how he thinks mortals might swim (“Yes, try kicking your feet. And inhaling through your mouth—no, not while underwater!”). Achilles might be better suited for such a job, but it’s enjoyable enough watching Zagreus flail about in the water, droplets of water splashing off his hair and soaking his robes through. Of course, Zagreus isn’t a good student for long before he tugs Thanatos himself into the stream too.

“You can’t even swim yourself!” Zagreus accuses, as he watches Thanatos surface from his unexpected dive, dripping wet and none too pleased for it.

“Yes, my garb is not well suited for the water, the metal is rather heavy. I can shift across bodies of water when I need to traverse them.”

Zagreus snorts and splashes some more water at him. “You’re so—” Thanatos complains, using his scythe to mobilize a wave of his own.

Afternoon finds them sitting, exhausted, in the stream, the shores around them deluged with water. A few hopeless fish flop back and forth, trying to find their way back to the stream. Zagreus finally stands up to collect them, shivering as he emerges back into the brisk air. A drop of water slowly traces its way down his back, lingering in the dip between his shoulders before it disappears beneath his clothes. When he returns to Thanatos’s side, he's grinning and holding a fistful of fish. “What say we take these back to the Head Chef?”

Thanatos floats up out of the stream’s waters himself, carefully drawing any wetness out of his robes and dispersing it back to the flowing stream beneath. “Heading back so soon?” he asks, trying to keep the note of pathetic hopefulness out of his voice.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving, didn’t I?” Zagreus shakes the water out of his own hair like Cerberus emerged from a bath, before smiling up at Thanatos. “I still belong to the Underworld, and… I don’t need to be away for too long, even if I’m exploring the world above, if it makes you worried so. Besides,” he adds, with a glimmer to his eyes, “you said you preferred the bed back home, didn’t you? It would make a selfish lover of me if I were only to cater to my own desires.”

Thanatos laughs, and settles down on the ground in front of Zagreus. “And I’m certain nobody’s ever accused you of being a selfish lover.” He takes Zagreus’s hand—the one not overflowing with fish—and presses a kiss to his lips.

“Well then, take me home?” Zagreus asks, and how can he say no to that?

**Author's Note:**

> i was joking with my beta about naming this fic after the les mis song and then i actually went through with it so please imagine hades booming out "bring him home"
> 
> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/viverroidea), come say hi!


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